Restless
by The Kunai
Summary: Tron has a peculiar dream about...Sark? What has the world come to...


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Title: Restless

Author: The Kunai

One-Shot

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The soft blue glow that greeted him every time he came out of hibernation wasn't there.

"Yori?" He whispered, reaching for his right, groping in the dark clumsily before being struck with a horrifying realization. The room--no windows, no glowing furnishings of pink, purple, gold, blue. He was lying on a cold black floor instead of the proper virtual bed he had eagerly leaped into the night before, listening to absolute silence and cringing at the overwhelming isolation that swarmed him and created its own ring in his ears. His own blue glow…had it become paler, dimmer? He couldn't really see the wall that he felt as he accidentally brushed against its surface when he cautiously rose on his knees. Finally, the security program stood in the frightening environment, feeling along the wall until he noticed a slight difference, and then saw a light emanate from his palm. A chunk of the wall disappeared, the darkness fled from the incoming luminescence but did not surrender completely.

After all, everything outside their room was also quite dark. A shadowed lapis lazuli would help to describe the color of the cyber sky, graduating into a sharp blue at the horizon and a navy color directly above him. Against the harsh horizon he could clearly see the silhouettes of the buildings that he was so used to viewing as he left to perform his programmed tasks, but they were not buildings in shape. They looked like shattered crystals with pieces scattered haphazardly in the area of which he could make out. It would be like dusk in the user world, although for him the sight made whatever was inside his gut to twist.

Not even whispers, or footsteps, showed that this world was alive in any way; not even the fact that here and there streaks of yellow and red would sometimes flash and dart around on set pathways in the broken fields could convince him otherwise. It was a rather weak argument anyway. The only lit being on this virtual ground stepped through the threshold gingerly and was instantly rewarded by having the surface crack and crumble with his second foot out. Thanks to his sharp reflexes from all the training he passed during the time of the MCP's reign, jumping to his right to avoid a nasty fall and getting back solid footing didn't even make him blink. What did make him blink in disbelief was a particularly sharp yellow light darting yet moreso to his right, going past a something that cast a shadow and definitely resembled a boot. As soon as the flash of energy passed said foot covering, a soft red glow began to crawl up pre-determined paths. Some kind of constrictor had curled itself within the blue-striped man's chest as he watched this, frozen in place.

"…it…can't be…"

That boot was attached to a leg. The leg was obviously not on its own. Whoever the body parts belonged to was standing straight, facing the horizon, not taking any particular interest in the other who was staring at him…if the man in the red-lit suit had even noticed at all. On and on the crimson glow grew, climbing up slowly at first but then beginning to take up the speed of a squirrel, and soon it gave the mysterious form an unmistakable outline, particularly in the distinct helmet that was much more like a full-grown hood. Or mushroom, perhaps.

He didn't want to acknowledge the existence of this man who had made his life complete hell for months before the user named Flynn had come into the system and saved them all. He took a step back when the other turned the recognizable helmet and the head it was protecting to face him.

It seemed the other was to acknowledge him first.

"Tron…"

Tron didn't say anything. Some foolish idea had come into his normally logical head that maybe if he didn't talk to this man, he would disappear. It didn't matter that if the red one disappeared there was no one else. Yori had to be here somewhere, he thought to himself fervently, thinking of the lovely lady that had captured what could be his heart if he were a real person, brightly shining blue like himself…

The silence hadn't intimidated the one Tron had hoped to disappear, though, "Look what has happened. Fighting for the users, only to have them betray you. They abandoned this world, cut the power without warning."

This really ruffled Tron's feathers, and he broke his vow of silence, "That just can't be true--users wouldn't do that!"

"Ah, but it is. You know it. There is no other reason seeing as you de-rezzed the MCP."

"Hmph. And I suppose the MCP would have made things so much better?"

Something was hovering in the air between them. It bothered the blue program that he had a feeling the other was telling the truth about the users, bothered him even more that there was no sudden argument proclaiming how great the tyrannical control unit was or no reach for the identity disk on his back. Instead, there was a long wait before the commander who had made Tron's life a nightmare decided to reply.

"…I had meant what I said. It wasn't a desperate plea to catch you off guard."

"…" If "it", which he had no idea about at the moment, wasn't meant to catch him off guard, that statement certainly did. Tron also noticed that the other program had suddenly changed the subject, but he wanted to satisfy his own curiosity and decided to take the lack of defense for the MCP as a quiet agreement, "…what are you talking about?"

Scarlet lines took a step forward, azure lines took a step away. The blood-colored program spoke again in the British accent that also alerted anyone within a two-mile radius that he was in town and in charge, "I had been hoping that you would have changed your mind, Tron. You're intelligent, strong, annoyingly persistent. It would have been pleasurable to work with you, if only you had been willing."

"Ha, work with you? Now that's a thought that will entertain throughout the ages," he said bitterly, "Help you terrorize and de-rezz innocent programs, feed that black hole we called 'Master', destroy the world inside and outside, one megabyte and square foot at a time…I would have rather been deleted or turned into a bit than have done that."

It was just then that he heard the sound of those boots coming a few steps closer, and saw the red lines on the other's suit--was it just him, or was the glowing becoming slightly stronger? He could see the faint reflection of the light on the wall--approaching and hastily he backed away, too late remembering the crack that his left foot had made when he had first stepped outside. The crack suddenly became wider, the world collapsed beneath him…

His body jerked harshly when his wrist was grasped with an ironclad grip.

He was yanked back onto the solid plane; limply he collided with his enemy's chest that felt warmer than it should have been. Before he had time to get his balance back he was thrown into yet another dizzying motion that ended up with him being crushingly pinned against the wall. At this point, the luster of their suits more closely revealed the face of the program that was holding Tron prisoner between an overwhelmingly strong body and a hard place. Not particularly handsome, no…in fact, the original writer of the enemy man had to be at least twelve years his senior, if not more than twenty.

"Sark…" Unwittingly he had uttered the other's name, but it didn't matter anymore, did it? "I don't…what…"

Commander Sark leaned in ever closer to the younger Tron's face, a gloved finger delicately tracing his victim's jawline, "I told you--we would have made a great team."

His lips silenced any protests from the security program who was about to crash provided the torrent of energy pulses didn't cease at once.

All of a sudden, Tron's body was definitely not functioning according to the commands of his mind…

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"Tron?"

His eyes snapped open and he shot right up into a sitting position. Was he really back in his bed? What the hell happened during his last waking period? This startled his female companion, who flinched when he reacted so violently. As for him, he was looking around, something inside him pounding frantically, questioning whether all the lights around him were for real this time, when it finally dawned on him--it was just a dream. Perhaps his microcycles were still busy processing what had been going on in the dream, otherwise Tron wouldn't have been so slow on the uptake.

Someone's hand covered his own and he, quite startled, looked to his right, and then he smiled, "Oh…Yori…"

"Are you alright? You looked like you were de-rezzing; I saw you flickering red."

Feeling his face warming by several degrees, he continued to grin widely while slamming his mind into several brick walls. Wait, brick red? Oh, wonderful, "It was nothing. Just a bad dream, that's all. I don't know if it really explains what you saw, but I don't feel unwell so I think I'm fine."

Tch. He was lying, and he knew it, and he felt bad because computer programs were always supposed to be honest. Still, Yori didn't catch on and she smiled in return, kissing him on the lips before getting out and getting up to change so she could resume her job. Tron remained, flopping down and laying face-up, not out of laziness or of the fact that he had a day off today from his duties. He lay there because he could still feel a ghostly buzz of that man all over his body, haunting him with the ecstasy they had vibrated with. Sark, of all programs…the sensations would probably not leave for quite some time.

What horrified him the most was the fact that he had actually _wanted _and _enjoyed _all that.

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A/N: First ever Tron/Sark fanfiction on here.

Please don't kill me. ;;


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